


You're free (of me)

by a_y_lin



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Gangs, Hurt Kaz Brekker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Kaz Brekker, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, grisha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_y_lin/pseuds/a_y_lin
Summary: Am I ever truly alone, when I find I am my only ally,or when I lose myself at last, free from the grasp of my mind?Can anyone truly be fixed, or is desolation as inevitable as gravity,as rare as certainty, dragging me down until I can no longer stand on my own?Will I ever forget the taste of pain, of suffering, which I call my own, whichis more loyal to me than blood, long since drained, or shall it embrace meforevermore, like a desperate, cloying, lover, until I can resist no more?A post-Crooked Kingdom Kaz/Jesper AU.
Relationships: Anika & Kaz Brekker, Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey & Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey & Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker & Matthias Helvar, Kaz Brekker & Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey, one-sided Anika/Kaz Brekker
Comments: 31
Kudos: 127





	1. I  - Waffles and Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this is a Kaz/Jesper story, I absolutely love Inej. However, I think she deserves to fulfill her dream of hunting slavers and reconnecting with her family. Since Kaz doesn't seem to want to leave Ketterdam at the end of CK, and since he deserves someone who will be there for him always, I don't ship Kaz and Inej as a couple, although I imagine Kaz as her protective older brother. Also, Jesper used to have a crush on Kaz, and I want to explore this dynamic further. Plus, Kaz seems to care for Jesper deeply because he refers to Jesper by his brother's name in CK.
> 
> Obviously, this story will eventually be bxb. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Any warnings will be included at the start of whichever chapters they apply to, but I don't foresee many of these.
> 
> This is my first SoC fanfiction, so please enjoy and be kind!

**Four Months After Inej's Departure From Ketterdam...**

**Kaz**

The first thing Kaz noticed in the morning was his leg. It was throbbing, a constant reminder of his weakness, but he didn't mind the pain. In fact, he'd learned to cherish it; it brought him a breed of strength that could only be earned through suffering. 

The second was that the pale morning light painted his skin a sickly white, causing Kaz to cringe at the wan complexion of his hands. Every morning for the past few months, he told himself he would forgo wearing his gloves, but his resolve always vanished by the time he reached the top of the stairs, and he would dart back to his room to put on his armor.

He braced himself for the pain before getting out of bed, quickly reaching for his cane to steady himself. Moving to the wardrobe at the opposite end of the room, he dressed in his usual attire: a crisp, black suit. He pulled on his gloves, slipped a few daggers into the folds of his black coat, and set out for the waffle house to meet Jesper for breakfast. 

In the past few weeks, it had become tradition for Kaz to meet the sharpshooter for waffles. At first, Kaz had been annoyed with the concept; he would have preferred to enjoy his mornings alone, and he only attended breakfast to keep Jesper happy, therefore increasing the likelihood the sharpshooter would agree to any of his future requests. Though Kaz was loath to admit it, after the first week, he started looking forward to Jesper's company. Despite his usually flippant attitude, he was a good listener, and discussing things aloud helped Kaz think.

As he traveled between buildings, taking refuge in the shadows they created, Kaz found himself humming a catchy tune that he learned from Jesper. Or, more accurately, Jesper had been humming it one day, and thanks to Kaz's memory, it was now stuck with him forever.

Jesper had once told him that his mind was his greatest asset. Kaz had simply cocked his head in curiosity. He already knew Jesper was right; he merely wanted to know how he reached the conclusion. The way Jesper said it, with an air of awe and thoughtfulness, implied that the statement required some evaluation, and that confused Kaz. It's not like he had a plethora of good qualities to choose from. He was ruthless, manipulative, and stubborn. He doubted Jesper would consider those things positive, though they were undoubtedly useful traits. On the other hand, Kaz thought the sharpshooter possessed a few good qualities as well, though he wouldn't risk inflating the Zemini boy's arrogance by voicing this fact. Distantly, as if looking back on a past life, Kaz remembered calling him Jordie, and he couldn't help but contemplate their similarities.

Jordie had been naive, greedy, reckless, and brazen; as far as Kaz knew, Jesper shared all but the first characteristic. If the sharpshooter had ever been naive, it had been before he met Kaz, but although he didn't value _kruge_ as much as Kaz did, Jesper always seemed to be searching for something, anything really, that he thought would make him content. Having lived in the Barrel for nearly a decade, Kaz knew this was far more avaricious than his own ambitions. He would rule all of Kerch -- Ghezen, he would rule all of _Ravka_ \-- before Jesper found true happiness in the Barrel, but despite his intentions, he could never bring himself to tell Jesper what he thought. _Better terrible truths than kind lies,_ he had once said to Inej, but for the first time since coming to Ketterdam, he couldn't -- no, wouldn't -- abide by his own advice. Kaz speculated it was because he was trying to protect Jesper to compensate for his inability to protect Jordie all those years ago.

Had Kaz been focused on walking rather than reminiscing and contemplating, perhaps he would've noticed the crowds thinning. Perhaps he would have noted that he was being followed. Perhaps he would have been prepared for the first blow: a kick targeting his right leg, his bad leg, that brought him to the ground. 

The impact chased the breath out of his lungs, and he barely had time to roll out of the way as a heavy boot came down where his head had been moments before. Regaining his bearings, he used his good leg to swipe his assailant's leg from underneath him, bringing him to the ground before retrieving a knife from his coat. Rolling on top of the larger man, Kaz pinned him down with his cane and sliced the knife across his throat before rising to his feet to face the three men that remained, now encircling him. They were tall, muscled, and dressed in dark armor. Mentally, Kaz dismissed the thought that they could be from a rival gang. Their matching equipment suggested a higher level of organization, though he didn't waste much more time before launching his knife at the man in front of him, whirling around quickly to place his cane between himself and his attacker's sword. Unfortunately, the cane couldn't protect him from firearms, a fact he was made aware of when a bullet tore through his shoulder, loosening his grip and letting his opponent plunge the blade into his abdomen.

Now, Kaz had been called a demon by many, but he was, in fact, very human, and he cursed his own weakness as the blood loss sapped his strength, forcing him into oblivion before his limp body hit the street.

**Jesper**

When Kaz was late for waffles, Jesper's first thought was that something important came up at the Slat, but he wasn't about to sacrifice his table to find out more. Instead, he sat down and ordered a coffee -- the color of Kaz's eyes, he noted -- to sip while he waited. Over the course of fifteen minutes, he watched patrons enter the cafe with minimal interest, his spirits rising every time he saw a flash of pale skin and dark hair before realizing that Kaz hadn't arrived yet. When his limited patience ran out, he found himself walking the familiar route to the Slat for the first time in months. 

As he walked, he couldn't help but be concerned for Kaz. Jesper knew, of course, that Kaz could take care of himself. He also knew that there were a multitude of perfectly safe things that could've forced Kaz to stay at the Slat. Regardless, he couldn't stop himself from imagining the worst: Kaz bleeding out in an alley; the Slat being attacked by Dime Lions; a Grisha on _jurda parem_ killing Kaz before anyone could lift a finger to prevent it. The list continued, each possibility more horrifying and detailed than the last. He didn't know whether he ought to feel relieved or terrified as he came upon the doors of the crooked building. 

When he entered the Slat, he was greeted with the sight of an ordinary morning: some of the newer Dregs were having breakfast in the foyer while Anika, Kaz's lieutenant, watched from her place at the edge of the room. 

"What business, Jesper?" Anika asked, her tone light yet concerned at his presence. Though she often saw Jesper around the Crow Club, he rarely came around the Slat since he started living at the Van Eck mansion with Wylan.

"Looking for Kaz," he replied, keeping his posture relaxed and his expression neutral. The last thing he needed was Anika organizing a city-wide hunt because he couldn't keep his nervous energy under control. "He's late for breakfast again."

Anika's calm mask fell. "He left over half an hour ago."

Jesper's heart nearly stopped beating. The walk from the Slat to the cafe was about fifteen minutes, and even with his limp, Kaz never took more than twenty; people tended to clear the way for him as he walked down the street. Jesper was no genius, but he knew that whoever attacked Kaz -- only an organized effort would stand a chance against Dirtyhands -- was bad news. After all, it took more than a dozen thugs to take down the Bastard of the Barrel.


	2. II - Planning and Pretending

**Jesper**

Jesper had never felt so devoid of energy. The knowledge of Kaz's absence left him emotionally drained, and based on Anika's expression, he guessed she felt the same. Even though the leader of the Dregs had never been friendly or spent much time around his subordinates outside of jobs, he made it his business to know about everything in the city. Even though he no longer had his Wraith, he had other spiders to keep an eye on Ketterdam, not to mention the informants he acquired over the years. Without being present, Kaz was everywhere, and Jesper doubted many of the Dregs could remember a time they were truly without him.

Having Kaz around meant that the Dregs were protected. None of the other gangs would risk incurring his wrath by making a move against his gang, but if news got out that Kaz had vanished, the Dregs would become the target of every gang in the city, and all of them knew that. When Dirtyhands was around, they were daring, sometimes even reckless, drawing the ire and attention of their rivals in the process because they knew he would interfere if they made a mistake; he would do anything to come out on top. It was, after all, how one survived in the Barrel. Without Kaz, they would quickly lose confidence, weaken, and crawl into an isolated corner of the Slat to die. 

While Jesper admitted he was being a bit dramatic, it was an indisputable truth that Kaz made the Dregs everything they were; he gave them everything they had. It was also the reason no one could know that Kaz's disappearance wasn't intentional on his part.

"Anika," Jesper murmured, careful not to let any of the other Dregs overhear, "we're going to keep this quiet; then, we're going to get him back."

She nodded, her eyes darting around the room to ensure they weren't drawing any unwanted attention. "I'll find out who took him," she declared, her voice brimming with confidence. "The only way anyone could best Kaz in a fight is if they took him by surprise, and no one surprises him unless he doesn't know they're in the city. There are only a handful of smugglers who can get people into Ketterdam without his knowledge, so I'll start there."

Without waiting for a response, she slipped through the Dregs in the foyer, presumably heading to Fifth Harbor for information. The crowd parted for her as she walked, though they didn't give her as much space as they did Kaz, and Jesper felt a pang of envy. People respected Anika because she was associated with Kaz; he protected and trusted her, and she obviously looked up to him, trying to mimic his confidence and abilities whenever she could. Jesper, on the other hand, could hardly go six months without disappointing him. Nevertheless, he would do everything he could to help Kaz, and in the spirit of his renewed resolve, he set out along Kaz's preferred route to the cafe, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary along the way.

Kaz, being the paranoid person he was, made sure to sneak behind building and through alleys, only walking out in the open when he wasn't in gang territory; it would be suspicious to do such a thing in the better parts of Ketterdam. As much as Jesper hated the tedium, he made sure to retrace the gang leader's steps thoroughly, and he walked the majority of the way without incident, gladly emerging into the Financial District. Having exited gang territory, he was certain Kaz hadn't been ambushed in a dark alley or grabbed from behind as he slipped behind a building, and the knowledge set Jesper on edge. He feared the kind of organization that would abduct someone in broad daylight in one of the better parts of Ketterdam.

He was about to give up, accepting the fact that there would be no trace of Kaz to be found, when he spotted a glint of silver on the pavement. In any other city, he would dismiss it as loose change someone dropped on the ground, but this was Ketterdam; nothing worth a single cent was left untouched unless everyone was too afraid to claim it. Making his way to the edge of the street, he felt the last of his hope fade away as he recognized Kaz's cane lying in the street next to a puddle of blood.

Even Jesper couldn't deny the likelihood that it was Kaz's.

Gingerly, he picked up the crow's head cane, careful not to get any blood on his hands. It was heavier than he expected, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he made his way to the Van Eck mansion. By the time he reached the front door, he wanted nothing more than to forget the events of the morning. Using his key to get inside, he didn't bother joining Wylan for lunch, instead making his way to the liquor cabinet with the intention of downing one of his favorite bottles of bourbon, which he reserved for dealing with stress. The last time he'd opened a bottle had been before the Ice Court job.

Pulling out the bottle, he was surprised to find a plain envelope tied to it. A part of him warned him that it could be more bad news, but his eye was drawn to the black wax pressed into the shape of a crow. It was Kaz's seal, and Jesper's lips quirked up in a soft smile as he realized that Kaz had broken into the house to leave a message for him. Didn't this mean that Kaz cared about him to some degree? He was reluctant to even think such a thing. It was more likely Kaz hid a death threat for him to find. Despite his reservations, he set down the bourbon, untied the envelope, and tore it open, pulling out the document inside. His eyes widened as he scanned the page, and he was glad he wasn't holding the bottle of bourbon anymore; if he was, he would have dropped it.

Jesper was holding the contract of his indenture, the one that forced him to work for the Dregs until his debt was repaid, and the money he owed was declared 'repaid' at the bottom of the page, next to a scrawled signature, a black wax seal, and a date from over a month ago.

Kaz had cleared his debt, and Jesper's first question was, Why? Four months ago, he would have thought this meant the thief didn't want him around anymore; he wouldn't have recognized that this was one of the kindest gestures he'd ever received. Like he'd done for Inej, Kaz had set him free, and Jesper grew hopeful at the thought. Could this mean that Kaz cared for him? That there was something more than tentative friendship between them? No. He buried those ideas, mentally scolding himself for being so foolish. Kaz had always protected Inej like family, so the similar gesture towards Jesper could only mean that Kaz was looking out for his own. Despite what most people in the Barrel thought, Kaz did have honor, so this was much more likely. 

The second thing he questioned was why Kaz hid the document in a liquor cabinet? Why not deliver it himself? The only explanation Jesper could formulate was that Kaz didn't want to deal with the sharpshooter getting emotional when he received the news. After all, the thief despised most forms of human interaction that didn't involve blackmail or violence. Jesper hoped that whoever had Kaz was participating in neither, and he smiled bitterly as he imagined Kaz's drawl as he expressed his disappointment to his captors. Hopefully, Kaz would be unconscious for the duration of his captivity; like Jesper, he had a knack for attracting danger.

**Kaz**

Kaz awoke to utter darkness, and in the few moments it took for his vision to adjust, he wondered if he had truly opened his eyes.

Once he could see, he noted that he was chained to the floor with iron shackles. Unlike chains he'd been in before, these encased his hands entirely, preventing him from moving his fingers, and Kaz was momentarily pleased that such precautions were taken against him. Before he had the time to assess his situation further, a metal door swung open, bathing the room with dim light. A broad figure stepped forward, wearing the same dark armor as the men who attacked him previously, but this one wore a silver insignia on his coat, and Kaz recognized the emblem as Fjerdan.

The Fjerdan, who Kaz guessed was a Druskelle based on his attire, stepped forward, and Kaz tried to get to his feet, forgetting about his injuries. As soon as he shifted, the sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of his predicament, and the Druskelle lifted him effortlessly, pinning him against the wall. He ignored the unpleasant sensation of the man's skin against his own, focusing on violence instead.

Kaz flung his head forward and bit down on the Druskelle's ear. The man yelled in pain, dropping Kaz, who winced as his weight shifted back to his legs, causing his injured one to throb. He spat blood on the ground, baring his teeth.

" _Demjin!_ " the Druskelle hissed, glaring at Kaz.

He simply smiled. "I think that's offensive to the demons, don't you?"

The man, still clutching at his ear, looked frightened and rushed out of the cell, closing the door behind him. Kaz had to admit he was disappointed with the Fjerdan. After all, the man hadn't been missing any part of his ear lobe; Kaz had only caused his ear to bleed. 

Sighing, he retreated to the far corner of his cell, closing his eyes to get some rest. Soon, he told himself. Soon, he would get some answers.


	3. III - Hidden Secrets are the Best Kind

**Jesper**

If he didn't know better, Jesper would believe he was already drunk.

That would be much more likely than his debts being paid. After all, even with the money from the Ice Court job, he still owed millions of _kruge_. The idea that Kaz would simply part with such a large amount of money was difficult to believe. Maybe, he pondered, Kaz himself had been drunk when he'd signed the document. Jesper dismissed the notion quickly; he would bet hundreds that no one had seen the gang leader drunk, as that would mean that Kaz was doing something enjoyable, the very thought of which usually garnered a scowl.

"Jesper, is Kaz around the house somewhere?" Wylan's voice floated through the estate, but Jesper couldn't bring himself to respond; he was still reeling.

The merchling entered the kitchen, Kaz's cane in hand, and shot the sharpshooter a puzzled look, which only deepened when he spotted the contract in his grasp. Wylan looked pained for a moment, opened his mouth as if to ask what it was, then thought better of it and simply waited for his boyfriend to acknowledge him.

However, Jesper still seemed frozen by the news, so Wylan stepped forward, reaching out a hand tentatively as if to offer comfort. Before he could, however, Jesper spoke, shattering the fragile silence.

"Kaz is gone, and I came here to find my indenture already paid," he said, his voice soft and lacking its usual fire.

"Kaz is dead?!" Wylan exclaimed, Jesper's words sinking into him like claws.

Already, the merchling's demeanor deflated, only for Jesper to clarify, "He disappeared this morning. I found his cane on the streets." The sharpshooter took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself as he did so, and continued unfurling the morning's events as Wylan listened, not daring to interject for fear of making Jesper revert to a state of silence. It had been unnerving seeing the usually energetic boy so quiet, and Wylan had no desire to repeat the uncomfortable experience.

When the room once again fell silent, Wylan inquired, "Why would Kaz cut ties with you? Do you think it had anything to do with his disappearance?"

Jesper smiled softly. He loved seeing Wylan start speculating like this, like Kaz would do if he were here. The merchling's hidden intelligence was one of the qualities that had attracted Jesper to him when they first met.

"Kaz didn't cut ties with me, Wy," Jesper replied. "I think it was actually meant to be a kind gesture."

Wylan searched for any signs of amusement on the sharpshooter's face, any tell that would give away the joke, but he found only sincerity. In fact, it could even be perceived as sadness, but Jesper couldn't help the feeling. He hated that Kaz's idea of being nice was giving everyone around him a chance to leave him behind. If that wasn't a sign the other boy was broken, he didn't know what was. Aside from the fact that he seemed to have no family, Kaz had never opened up to him once in the years since they met. Even when they met for waffles, Jesper did most of the talking; Kaz always seemed content to listen, only speaking a handful of times.

Once, Jesper had ordered him a cup of coffee spiked with more cognac that he felt comfortable admitting; it wasn't nearly enough to get Kaz drunk, but he had been buzzed before noon that day. Jesper had been worried the gang leader would be upset when he realized what happened, so he was humming with nervous energy as Kaz took the first sip. The gang leader had only narrowed his gaze at the coffee; then, his lips curved into a smile, and he thanked Jesper for the drink before downing the rest of it. There wasn't anything different about Kaz for most of their meal, and Jesper was slightly disappointed that he was able to remain so composed. Then, one of the waitresses started flirting with Jesper, which wasn't uncommon. To his surprise, Kaz -- being the observant person he was -- noticed, glared at the girl, and asked for her manager like a rich merchant's wife at an upscale restaurant. When the gentle woman who owned the cafe came to their table, Kaz dug a butter knife into the wooden table before politely asking her for the employee's home address.

On their way back to the Slat that day, Jesper asked, "Kaz, why did you ask where she lived? And why?"

"I'm going to burn her house to the ground," he replied with a smirk. "After all, I have to protect my investments from compromising their value."

That night, Jesper's sleep was interrupted by the high-pitched tones of a fire siren.

He frowned as his reminiscing was interrupted by Anika. The lieutenant barged into the kitchen, seemingly ignoring Jesper and Wylan as they stood by the liquor cabinet, and opened the bottle of bourbon Jesper had set on the table.

"My contact at Fifth Harbor told me that his last clients were Fjerdans," she stated, taking a swig of bourbon. "They've supposedly set up shop in an abandoned building in the Warehouse District. I'll gather some of the dregs we can trust, and we can scout the place tonight."

Jesper nodded, moving his hands to the handles of his revolvers. He could only hope Kaz would be alive when they got to him.

**Kaz**

When he opened his eyes again, Kaz found that his sleep had been interrupted by a low creak. The door to his cell was ajar, and a different man than before stepped into the room; where the first Fjerdan had been broad, this one was lean, but Kaz knew looks could be deceiving. He eyed the thief warily, then made a gesture with his hands.

Two more men entered, each taking one of Kaz's shoulders and pinning him to the wall. The lean man came forward and locked a second set of chains around his wrists before unlocking the first ones, which had been bolted to the ground. Kaz's new bindings allowed him to move his fingers, which he was grateful for, but he was on edge regardless. He didn't think it a coincidence that he was no longer chained to the floor of the cell, and he was proven right when the two Fjerdans on either side of him started dragging him forward. Kaz immediately went limp, taking advantage of the orders his captors had obviously been given to rest his leg. He allowed himself a small smile as the two struggled to carry him, one even muttering a few choice words in Fjerdan, the only one Kaz understood being 'cripple.'

Finally, he was brought into a large, empty room with high windows. Bright light streamed into the room, so it was likely midday, meaning he had either slept for a few hours or just over a day. Judging by his lack of energy, he guessed it was the former. The Fjerdans who had carried him lowered him to the ground, forcing him to kneel in front of the man he had ignored upon his first observations: Pekka Rollins.

"Hello, Dirtyhands," Rollins greeted, his pale face contorting into a twisted smile. "It might surprise you, but the Fjerdans don't take kindly to those who have broken prisoners out of their jails."

The Dime Lion circled Kaz slowly, continuing to talk as he did so.

"They hate criminals almost as much as they hate Grisha, but I've found that they love a good story, so I told them one I learned eight years ago, about two boys named Kaz and Jordie Rietveld."

Kaz stilled, and he felt his pulse begin to race. He took a breath, trying to steady himself as Rollins persisted.

"Both boys caught plague, and the elder died. Personally, I've always thought it a miracle the younger managed to survive it. Then, they were thrown into the freezing harbor, but this boy, Kaz Rietveld, managed to survive it. He clung to his brother's corpse and made it back to shore days later.

"You see, that's always bothered me. Already weakened from sickness, he should have died in those waters. His heart should have stopped; his organs should have stopped functioning. But, they didn't.

"I thought to myself, 'How is this possible?', and the simple answer is that it isn't for an ordinary person.

"But it's perfectly plausible for a Grisha," he finished, eyes glinting with malice, and Kaz felt sick.

He couldn't speak, couldn't move, could hardly hear himself think, but Rollins wasn't done.

"Naturally, I like to be sure of things, so I've come up with a bit of a test," he drawled, pulling a dagger from his coat. "I'm going to slit your throat, and if you heal yourself, I'll have confirmation you're Grisha; if not, I'll get to watch you bleed out, pathetic and alone."

Then, without further warning, he slashed the knife across Kaz's throat.

The Fjerdans on either side dropped him as his hands flew to his throat, desperate to somehow make Rollins's words true before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, but I needed to decide how I wanted this chapter to play out. Regardless of what happens next chapter, there will still be Jesper and Kaz anecdotes, so you definitely haven't seen the last of Kaz. However, I did tag this story 'angst,' so you can never be sure......
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and to everyone who left comments and kudos! Feedback means the world to me, and I will try to update again soon.


	4. IV - Knowledge is Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: there will be some light torture this chapter. I'd honestly planned to have more, but I got caught up in Kaz's thought process, so the torture is mostly in the background. Kaz's PTSD won't really be mentioned in this chapter because in the novels, he separates general physical contact with most things combat/violence related (he uses it as a bit of a coping mechanism). Jesper's gambling addiction will be discussed briefly.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

**Kaz**

Kaz was stunned to realize he wasn't dead. He was lying in a pool of blood, and his fingers were coated in it, but he was very much alive. The pain in his leg and shoulder from the earlier fight were absent, and he wasn't on the verge of blacking out. Kaz was thoroughly confused. He could feel his heart racing and his vision blurring slightly from the shock, but he was otherwise unharmed. Glancing up at Pekka Rollins, he saw a twisted grin gracing the man's features, and Kaz immediately tensed, waiting for the blow to come.

It did, a kick to his ribs that had him coughing up blood to join the rest on the cool floor beneath him. Kaz wanted to fight, to at least get to his feet, but as the shock of nearly dying wore off, he felt increasingly weaker. He had been injured before and lost more blood in the process, but that was nothing compared to the exhaustion he now felt. Fleetingly, he remembered Nina telling about her Grisha powers; they were like a muscle, needing to be trained for prolonged use, and -- of course -- overuse led to exhaustion. His train of thought was broken by another sharp kick.

"Use your powers, Grisha," Rollins spat, as if 'Grisha' were the worst of insults. "Heal yourself."

Kaz wanted to shout that he wished he could, that he would give anything for a Corporalnik's abilities so he could stop Rollins's heart, but he opted for silence instead. Truthfully, he was still trying to digest the fact that he was Grisha. When they were scheming to get Kuwei out of Ketterdam, Genya had asked him if he was a Corporalnik, saying that it would be a fitting explanation for his seemingly-miraculous recoveries and escapades. He had been baffled, and it took a hell of a lot to confuse him, so she probably took his lack of response as a desire for secrecy. Despite his reservations, he had spent the first few weeks after Inej left trying desperately to discern if he had any Grisha abilities. He had tried manipulating heartbeats, healing his leg, and giving members of rival gangs brain aneurysms to no avail before giving up entirely. Still, Rollins made the connection and seemed to be losing his patience.

The two Fjerdans who had dragged him out of his cell hauled him to a wooden table a few feet away, chaining him to it. Kaz didn't overlook the fact that while his arms were restrained, he could still move his fingers and -- theoretically -- use his powers. It meant that Rollins wanted him to heal himself, to stop himself from passing out so that the torture could continue indefinitely.

For once, Kaz cursed his propensity for being right.

Closing his eyes, he tried to assess the damage to his ribs and other vital organs. He thought he could feel a couple of fractured ribs, but the most concerning thing was the blood he had coughed up. The most likely issue was that an important artery got injured when Rollins broke his ribs. He tried thinking back to the times Nina had talked about her powers, digging for any instance she may have mentioned how to use them, but there weren't any. He knew Grisha powers were linked to their hands, so he focused on feeling the energy, as if he could physically hold it, but he wasn't sure if it was working. Maybe the shock from earlier hadn't worn off yet; it could've made him imagine things.

Then, he thought he felt Pekka Rollins's heart beat quicken with excitement. Kaz opened his eyes, pushing back the fear, and caught a glint of metal before the only thing he could process was pain. He tried to stifle a scream, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, as he closed his eyes and instantly regretted the mistake because, in the absence of sight, his other senses sharpened.

It was now he both knew he was Grisha and hated the fact. Enveloped in the darkness that swam behind his eyelids, he could feel every shattered fragment of bone in what was once his good leg.

Then, Rollins brought the mallet down a second time.

**Jesper**

All day, he had hoped that, against every rule of nature, night would never come.

It wasn't that he didn't want to find Kaz; he was -- as much as he despised admitting it -- afraid that they wouldn't. If they went to the Warehouse District and didn't find even a single clue, he didn't know what he would do. Part of him wanted Kaz to stay missing; it wanted to go back to the Van Eck mansion with Wylan, live a peaceful life as a merchant's assistant, and die a painless death many years from now. The other, larger part of him feared that future; it feared being happy and becoming useless. It wanted the constant high that was Kaz, with his unpredictable schemes and predilection for defying the odds. Jesper doubted even 'wanted' was a strong enough word. The thought of his life without the gang leader was almost painful to imagine; he craved -- no, needed -- the other boy's presence, and he had needed it since before they met.

When Kaz offered to take on his debts, Jesper had been spiraling, numb. The only time he felt anything akin to happiness was when he was gambling, but Kaz had changed that, had given him something else to live for, and it was fear of losing it, of becoming empty once more, that crippled him now.

He fingered his pearl-handled revolvers as he waited, their weight calming. He was leaned casually against the wall near the stairs of the ground floor of the Slat, with Wylan a few paces away, as they waited for Anika. The blonde lieutenant arrived minutes later with two young men in tow: one was lean with warm brown hair, the other was sandy-blonde and broad-shouldered.

"Roeder, Pim," Jasper greeted them respectively, their presence lifting his spirits slightly. Though Kaz never deigned to socialize with most of the Dregs, Jasper was glad to have a drink with them after a successful heist or long day.

Roeder, being the quieter of the two, only offered a nod of acknowledgement while Pim clapped Jasper on the shoulder good-naturedly. Wylan looked wary of the newcomers, but he relaxed slightly when he saw the friendly looks exchanged between them and Jesper.

"Now that everyone's been acquainted, it's time to head out," Anika said, being careful to keep her tone and expression neutral for the benefit of the other Dregs hanging around the Slat.

As a group, they all peeled away from the wall, and Jesper was reminded of his friends from university. They didn't have much in common besides their purpose, but that was enough to bring them together.

As they made their way to the Warehouse District, he wondered if -- in another life -- Kaz would have gone to university. Perhaps they would have met in a study group, with Kaz glaring at him for making some inane comment, instead of with Kaz offering to take on his gambling debts. Kaz may not have had his limp or harsh rasp; he might have been happy, and the thought was unsettling. In another life, would Kaz still be the man who ruled the Barrel? Or would he be a boy like Jesper was once?

Jesper was no fool, despite what others may think. He knew that Kaz, while he often omitted information, didn't lie unless it was part of a larger con, and the gang leader often said he was birthed in the Barrel. Part of Jesper wondered if this was a metaphor rather than a blatant truth. That part of him was scared.

If Kaz's persona was forged in the Barrel, if he had remade himself in its image, was any of it real? Or was it just an illusion, crafted by the most ruthless of magicians? Jesper shoved those thoughts away; it wouldn't do him any good to dwell on what could have been. He tried to focus on the present, taking a few breaths and fiddling with his revolvers to calm his nerves. He took a deep breath, finding a small comfort in the humid atmosphere of Ketterdam, the one thing Jesper knew would never change.

He refocused on the task at hand as the group came upon the abandoned warehouse, the one Anika's informant had told her about. It was near the water with a high ceiling and large windows, and Jesper peered into them, foolishly hoping he could get a view of anything inside, if there was even anyone inside.

Anika stopped a few yards away from the warehouse, beckoning the Dregs to gather around her. "Roeder, you're going to keep watch; stay hidden and kill anyone who tries to get inside," she commanded, tone cold. "Pim, Jesper, and Wylan, you three are with me. Remember, this is only a scouting trip; if we find anything, we'll come back tomorrow with better odds. We're not taking any risks with the boss's life," she finished, her voice losing its harshness as she mentioned Kaz, and Jesper wanted to kick himself for not realizing it earlier: Anika held affection for the gang leader.

It made sense to Jesper, of course, but he couldn't help feeling jealousy rise up inside of him, like a serpent rearing its head. Kaz had made Anika his lieutenant; for Ghezen's sake, he had chosen her for the Dregs himself, and she had his trust, trust he wouldn't give Jesper.

"Are you alright, Jesper?" Wylan asked, his soft voice interrupting his boyfriend's thoughts.

"Fine," the sharpshooter replied. "Let's get this over with."

Without another glance in the merchling's direction, he fell into step behind Anika, staying in the shadows as they made their way to the back door of the warehouse, a standard entrance used for shipping. Anika picked the lock on the door with relative ease, another thing she had from Kaz, though Jesper still noted that Kaz would've done it faster.

Slipping inside, he glanced around the room -- barely visible in the dim moonlight that leaked in through the windows -- and saw what was once an office: a small room on the far end of the warehouse that had been renovated with a heavy, metal door, probably to serve as a cell. Then, he shifted his attention to the main room, and he couldn't tear it away from a lone table, empty shackles its only decoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient with the updates! I hope to post the next chapter in less than a month as I already have the next part planned. Thank you to everyone who has left comments so far! I do read them all, even if I don't respond. Thank you all for bearing with me as I write, and of course, be sure to leave feedback!


	5. V - To Set You Free

**Kaz**

Kaz hadn't realized he blacked out until he opened his eyes again. He tried not to think about the state of his leg, but he guessed it had been a few hours since the injuries; the warehouse was dark, the only source of light being the moonlight filtering in through the high windows, and he was still chained to the table. Glancing around, he saw that he had been left alone, probably because his captors knew he would be insane to try escaping in his condition. The thought made Kaz smile.

Bracing his right hand against the shackles, he jerked his arm back sharply, dislocating his thumb. He did the same for his other hand and slipped off the chains before rolling onto his side and propping himself on one elbow. Then, he threw himself off the table, landing on his shoulder and wincing when his legs made contact with the ground. Distantly, he heard the familiar scraping of picks against a lock, and he started dragging himself across the warehouse, towards an old crate. Adjusting his position so that he couldn't be seen from the entrance, he focused on trying to heal his hands as he heard the door open. Kaz knew, of course, that the pain from dislocating his thumb was due to the torn ligament, so, using his uninjured fingers to move his thumbs back into place, he focused on repairing it.

Although Kaz had healed himself before, this was the first time he had done so knowingly, and as he felt the ligaments start to repair, he couldn't help but feel lighter. Consciously, he knew it was because he had used his powers; it wasn't exactly a secret that Grisha felt healthier after using their abilities, but he savored the sensation regardless. He wasn't foolish enough to think he would be able to walk anytime soon, and he had nowhere near enough medical knowledge to heal his legs, even if he had all the time in the world. Even knowing what he did -- that is, how to compromise vital organs -- he couldn't delude himself into thinking he had enough experience to put any of it to use. Repairing a torn ligament was like taking _kruge_ from a pigeon; stopping a man's heart was akin to staging a heist.

But, he supposed he could live up to his title and take a few people down with him.

**Jesper**

Jesper approached the table warily, seeing that the chains attached to it were still locked. Confused, he looked back at Anika -- who stood just behind him -- to see her with a similar expression. She signaled to the group that they should search the warehouse, and he made his way towards a worn wooden crate near the wall. As he crossed the final few paces, a dark figure rolled out from behind it, pulling the sharpshooter to the ground. As his assailant pinned him down, their elbow beginning to crush his windpipe, Jesper regretted not drawing his revolvers as soon as he entered the building.

Then, the pressure was lifted and he felt himself gasping for air.

"Jes, what is Ghezen's name are you doing here?" an unfamiliar voice accosted him.

Finally looking at his attacker, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Kaz on top of him, looking miserable but alive. His throat was covered in blood, and there were a couple of bruises starting to form on his face, but the only thing Jesper could manage to focus on was his voice.

"Why do you sound different?" Jesper asked.

"We don't have time for this," Kaz replied, obviously annoyed. "You need to leave."

Kaz rolled off of him, allowing Jesper to stand, but the gang leader remained on the ground. Then, the sharpshooter thought back to how Kaz fought him; even with his bad leg, he was always mobile in fights, but this time, he had waited for Jesper to come close, even though the other Dregs were too far to help him.

"You can't walk," Jesper breathed, not meaning to say it aloud. Kaz's expression darkened, and the sharpshooter knew he was right. "What happened to your leg?" he asked, voice quavering, as if he himself were afraid of the answer. "What happened to your voice?"

"Pekka Rollins took a mallet to my good leg after he slit my throat," Kaz responded, his tone cold. Seeing Jesper's shock, he added, "Apparently, I'm a Corporalnik."

"Today's just full of surprises," the sharpshooter muttered, trying to maintain a facade of calm despite his frenetic thoughts.

Kaz sent him a glare in response, "Now, you understand why you and the others need to get out of here. I can't walk, and you can't carry me back to the Slat."

Kaz meant to die. The realization was startling, and the Fabrikator wouldn't allow it. Without another word, he strode away from Kaz, towards Wylan and Pim, who had joined Anika by the pool of what was probably Kaz's blood.

"If I lost this much blood, I think I'd be pretty upset too," Wylan remarked, gesturing towards the gang leader.

Jesper chuckled. 'Upset' was putting it lightly; Kaz looked about ready to slaughter them all and hang them from the Church of Barter by their small intestines.

"Wy, do you have anything that could knock someone unconscious for a while?" the sharpshooter asked.

The merchling's face lit up, "I have some new smelling salts Genya recommended when she was here." He looked glad to be useful, then a look of unease crossed his features. "Who are we knocking out? There isn't anyone else here."

"Kaz," Jesper replied, and the three around him stilled. "Pekka Rollins was here; I think he was the one who took Kaz, and he broke his leg, so he can't exactly walk out of here."

"And the boss is being stubborn, as usual," Anika finished, almost adoringly. "Alright, Pim and I will hold him down, and Wylan can -- " she paused, not knowing exactly what the boy would be doing, then apparently decided it wasn't important. "Wylan will do his thing with the salt," she concluded. "Jesper, go make sure Roeder is alright."

He nodded, gave Kaz a final glance, and left, drawing his revolvers as he scanned the surrounding area. Jesper found Roeder half-concealed by the shadow of the neighboring warehouse, his gaze trained on the empty streets. 

Once, Roeder had offered to be Kaz's new spider, after Inej left, but Jesper remembered that the gang leader had rejected the proposal, claiming that he didn't need another spy. Kaz had exchanged letters with his Wraith since she left Ketterdam, and he seemed certain she would return, so Jesper believed it too. As long as Kaz was around, Inej would come back to him, like the harbor's waves would always come crashing into the shore. The sharpshooter wondered what would happen between him and Kaz once they returned to the Slat. Jesper no longer owed anything to the Dregs; he could go back to university then return home to his Da, but he knew he wouldn't do that. He wondered if Kaz would let him stay in the Dregs, live in the Slat like he had for years. And if he did leave, he wondered if Kaz would continue to welcome him back.

The warehouse door scraped open, revealing Wylan, Anika, and Pim, who was carrying the unconscious leader of the Dregs. It would have been comical if not for the circumstances, but Jesper made an effort to memorize how Kaz looked: peaceful with a beauty softened by sleep, his dark hair ruffling slightly in the wind. As they walked, their footsteps near-silent on the cobblestones, Anika drifted back from her place near the front to linger by Jesper.

"When you said Rollins broke the boss's leg," she started, careful to keep her tone low, "you didn't mention the bones are likely shattered." Hints of anger seeped through the calm mask she had donned, and Jesper wasn't sure if it was directed at Pekka Rollins or himself, so he decided not to respond, opting to let her continue instead. "I'm no medik, but even I know it's abysmal."

The sharpshooter didn't overlook the way she spoke of Kaz's injury as a thing of the present, as if it would be gone in the near future. Anika was afraid, whether for her own position in the Dregs or for Kaz's well-being, Jesper couldn't tell. Nevertheless, he kept silent as they made their way through the moonlit streets. He kept his hands on his revolvers as he walked, determined not to be caught off guard for a second time that night. Suddenly, he caught a flicker of a shadow lick at the edge of the street, barely visible. He turned to Anika, prepared to warn her, but was interrupted by a gunshot. He cried out as a bullet tore through his upper leg and fired two shots in the direction from which the first bullet came. Not bothering to see if either of them hit their mark, he turned to see that Anika and the others were already fleeing the scene. At least a dozen men had emerged from the alleys, weapons drawn, and Jesper found himself agreeing with the lieutenant that this wasn't a fight they could win.

He stumbled after Anika, focusing on running -- if it could even be called that -- rather than their course. He was losing too much blood, and he distantly registered shooting a few of their pursuers before the group emerged onto a familiar street. The flickering lights of the street lamps bathed them all in a warm glow, and he was greeted with the familiar grandeur of the Van Eck mansion. Anika and Pim had already shoved open the doors, placing Kaz onto a low sofa in the atrium. Wylan looked to Jesper, who was already feeling the loss of adrenaline from the earlier encounter. The sharpshooter swayed on his feet, closing his eyes as his vision began to blur. He was weightless for only a moment before he crashed onto the white marble floors. Wylan rushed to his side, kneeling next to him and putting pressure on the wound.

"Wake Kaz," Jesper breathed, his gaze desperate, before his head lolled to the side.

Quickly, Wylan dug through his messenger bag for the smelling salts, smiling triumphantly when he found the right one. He rushed over to the gang leader, waving the vial under his nose. The effect was near instantaneous, and Kaz's eyes fluttered open.

"What in Ghezen's name did you do?" he snarled, sitting up with only a slight wince.

"Jesper's been shot," Wylan blurted out, too frantic to elaborate. "He asked for you."

Immediately, Kaz was in motion, throwing himself over the side of the couch onto the ground. He dragged himself across Wylan's atrium to Jesper, who was barely conscious. Seeing Jesper's prone form on the floor, the gang leader paled further, if that was even possible for his complexion.

"What is Ghezen's name do you expect me to do, Jes?" Kaz asked, rather miserably.

"Heal me," the sharpshooter replied, shooting him a cheeky smile. Seeing the gang leader shake his head, he pressed on, "You healed yourself before."

Kaz let out a sardonic laugh. "It's not the same. I can't control it."

"Please, Kaz," Jesper asked, his smile faltering.

Kaz was prepared to refuse again, to insist that it was impossible, but Jesper's choice of words stopped him. In the past, he had been begged by countless people. They asked for money, for help, even for mercy, but he always refused them. He couldn't stand people who begged, who lowered themselves because they were afraid, but there was something different about Jesper's request. Unlike all the others, the sharpshooter didn't beg Kaz for help because he feared him; he begged him because, as he lay dying, he trusted Kaz, believed in him.

Knowing this, the Corporalnik pressed his hands against Jesper's leg. The bullet had torn open a major artery, and Kaz could sense Jesper's heartbeat slowing from the blood loss. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused on his power, concentrating on repairing the artery. Around him, the other Dregs watched in stunned silence as Jesper's flesh knitted back together, and Kaz collapsed forward on top of his friend, utterly exhausted.

Despite everything, both Jesper and Kaz looked peaceful, and Anika found herself wearing a sorrowful smile. Kaz had lost consciousness and was lying on top of Jesper, who had placed an arm around the gang leader protectively; seeing them together, the lieutenant knew she didn't stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another late update! However, I hope you are glad to hear that this chapter concludes the end of the beginning. The Kaz/Jesper fluff and angst begins soon, and another character will return to Ketterdam.
> 
> As for this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it and my character development so far. As always, I am grateful for every one of my readers, and I encourage you to leave kudos and comments, as they really motivate me to write more.


	6. VI - Considerations and Contemplations

**Inej**

Despite living in Ketterdam for years, Inej had never really appreciated the gentle push and pull of ocean waves. She had watched them from afar, perched on Kaz's window at the Slat, but it wasn't until she took to the ocean herself, her direction being determined by those very waves, that she ever acknowledged them. She supposed it was only fair, that freedom from Kaz meant vulnerability to the wiles of the tides.

As she took in the familiar sight of Fifth Harbor, Inej found herself missing the security that Ketterdam had once provided, its ever-present shadows acting as her shroud. On her ship, she was the Scourge of Pirates, but in Ketterdam, she was the Wraith, the very namesake of her ship. As her first mate, Luuk, organized the rest of her crew to resupply, she found herself gliding onto the docks, her eyes darting around for any inkling of a dark suit and crow's head cane. Finding none, she chuckled softly to herself. Only Kaz would avoid greeting her outright in such a manner.

Shifting her focus, she settled on visiting Jesper and Wylan first. They, at the very least, would be more receptive of her company.

"Inej!" Luuk called out to her. "Did you find the one you're looking for?"

"Not yet," she replied, joining him with the _Wraith's_ crew and kissing him softly on the cheek. "But I will soon enough. Meet me at the Van Eck manor when you're finished here?"

He gave a soft hum of approval. "I'll find my way there," he said.

Without another word, Inej departed, slipping through the crowds with ease. It was almost comical, how quickly people moved out of her way subtly, when they thought she wasn't looking. Even after months of her absence, they knew who she was. Before long, she found herself at the front steps of the Van Eck mansion, and she smiled to herself before knocking on the door. In seconds, she was greeted by the sight of a young butler.

"Miss Ghafa!" he greeted, a tad flustered at her sudden appearance. "Mister Van Eck and Mister Fahey will be glad to see you again."

"Thank you, Mark," she responded warmly. "And I've told you before that just Inej is fine."

Mark stepped aside silently, ushering her inside.

The foyer was as she remembered it: elegantly decorated yet welcoming. She made her way through the familiar halls of the house, heading for Wylan's study to greet him and the sharpshooter. When she had stayed at the Van Eck manor in the days leading up to her departure, she often met the couple for coffee in Wylan's study. The room was well-furnished and comforting, more than any study needed to be, so she didn't mind spending hours curled up on the sofa, chatting to Jesper as Wylan worked.

However, when she slipped into the room, Jesper was nowhere in sight, and Wylan looked far paler than usual, a worried expression darkening his features.

"What's wrong?" she asked, mentally berating herself as the boy startled visibly.

"It's Kaz," he answered, obviously reluctant to tell her the truth. "He was taken a couple of days ago, and when we found him-" Wylan cut off.

"What happened?" Inej pressed. If Kaz was dead- No, he couldn't be. The Bastard of the Barrel defied death itself, time and time again. This was no different.

"You should see for yourself," came his reply.

Wordlessly, Inej followed him as he led her to one of the guest suites, and as morning sunlight streamed in through the windows, painting the room in golden rays, Kaz's prone form looked uncomfortably peaceful. He was meant to be greeting her at the docks and scowling at her crew as he judged if they were good enough for her. He was meant to threaten Luuk and whisk her away before the other boy could even get a word in. They were supposed to spend the day climbing the rooftops of Ketterdam and the evening watching the sunset from atop the Church of Barter. The sheer wrongness of it all made Inej sick.

Then, she laid eyes on Jesper. The sharpshooter was hunched over, his clothes a mess, idly running him thumb over the lines of Kaz's palm.

"Jesper?" Inej murmured softly, trying to draw his attention away from Kaz, if only for a moment. Jesper was silent, and if she didn't know better, she would think he hadn't heard her. "I need to talk to you," she tried instead, lacing her tone with concern, and almost reluctantly, Jesper got up from his place at Kaz's bedside to follow Inej into the hall.

"Wylan seems worried about you," she started.

"Why?" Jesper asked bitterly. "I'm fine, but Kaz--" he trailed off, either unwilling or unable to finish, Inej couldn't discern.

"Wylan is worried," she said again. "So, when are you going to tell him how you feel?"

"How I feel about what?" the sharpshooter asked.

"Kaz."

Jesper, on the cusp of a reply, snapped his mouth shut.

"It's only natural to be concerned about your friend," Inej continued, as if she didn't find his lack of a response odd. "But, I imagine it would be awkward to tell Wylan that you're in love with Kaz."

**Jesper**

In Jesper's defense, he hasn't expected Inej to see through him so quickly.

"Does Kaz know?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Probably, though you'd have to ask him," Inej mused, seeming to contemplate it herself in the moment.

Jesper nodded wordlessly. He supposed he only had himself to blame for developing feelings for the Bastard of the Barrel. Of course Kaz would know, at least to an extent, how the sharpshooter felt about him. Ignorance got people killed in the Barrel, and Kaz prided himself on how well he'd survived -- no, thrived.

"You should talk to Kaz first," Inej interrupted his thought before they could wander too far. "Wylan will understand, but Kaz is complicated."

Jesper chuckled at that. Complicated was an understatement.

Then, as if the saints were tailoring the events of his life, Wylan's voice rang through the hall. "Kaz is awake!"

Inej shot Jesper a reassuring smile. "No time to face your problems like the present," she advised, then slipped down the hall, probably to find her own room for the rest of her stay.

Tentatively, Jesper reentered Kaz's room. Like before, the thief was still, and the only sign he was awake was that his dark eyes were open. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring absently out the window, so the sharpshooter cleared his throat softly to let Kaz know he was there. Unsurprisingly, Kaz didn't seem startled at the noise; he simply shifted his gaze to Jesper.

"I need to talk to you," Jesper said, repeating Inej's earlier words. Kaz stayed silent, and Jesper knew the thief was waiting for him to continue. Kaz, believing in the power of words, hated to waste them.

"I--" Jesper started, but something must have changed about his demeanor.

"Don't," Kaz cut him off immediately, tone cold. "Don't ask."

"How do you know what I was about to say?" Jesper asked, frustrated.

"I make my living by knowing men's secrets," Kaz retorted. "Are you really so arrogant as to think I don't know yours?"

"I've met you, Kaz. I know how much you love to show off, so please, tell me what secrets of mine you hold," Jesper demanded. Part of him regretted starting an argument with Kaz, but a larger part of him needed an answer, needed a reminder that Kaz could feel anger like the rest of them, that he was human.

"You really are a fool," came Kaz's response. "Secrets lose their value once disclosed, and I'm nothing if not a businessman."

The sharpshooter let out a laugh. "Other people might believe that, but I know you're only refusing to voice the truth because you're afraid. You're afraid because you feel the same way, and you're afraid of your own emotions!" At this point, Jesper had descended into shouting, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"You can't be afraid of something that doesn't exist," Kaz stated, his tone flat and his voice level, void of the cold, biting anger the conversation merited.

Then, in an attempt to prove Kaz wrong, to show him that he felt just as deeply as anyone else, Jesper crossed the room in a few long strides, brushed his fingers along Kaz's cheekbones, and kissed him. Kaz's breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, Jesper committed to memory the way the thief tasted of bourbon -- not so strong that it was as if he was drunk, but rather light enough to be pleasant -- and smelled like sandalwood. Then, he felt an unexpected strength shove him away roughly.

Glancing up, he saw that Kaz's eyes were dark with rage, and before he could open his mouth to apologize, Kaz cut him off. "Get out," he snapped, voice dangerously low, and Jesper felt his vision start to blur as he swayed slightly on his feet.

All at once, his senses and balance returned to him, and he noted with shock that Kaz's hand was outstretched toward him. He had been cutting off Jesper's blood flow, he realized, having forgotten that Kaz was a Corporalnik.

"Touch me again, and I'll rupture every organ in your body," Kaz breathed, almost imperceptibly.

Jesper didn't wait for another death threat; he all but fled the room. As he retreated, he regretted not telling Kaz what he'd meant to all along -- I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I have no excuse for not updating sooner other than quarantine has really dampened my energy to write. However, I really appreciate everyone who left kudos and commented, because you guys reignited my passion for this fandom and story!
> 
> Honestly, I don't know why I wrote this, but I really like it. This chapter was originally meant to be centered around Inej and Jesper, but halfway through writing it, I found myself really missing Kaz. Sorry I didn't warn for the slight non-con kiss at the end, but it wasn't detailed at all, and I didn't wanna ruin the ending. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is short, but I didn't wanna add too much filler, and I have an update planned soon, since I have the next chapter planned out already. Thanks so much guys for sticking with me so far!
> 
> ~Aylin


	7. VII - To Be Remade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: casual considerations of self-harm

**Kaz**

It wasn't until Kaz was alone that he realized he hated it. In the all-enveloping silence, the absence of work or plans, his ever-working mind had nothing to latch onto except for Jesper's kiss, though it hadn't even been a proper kiss.

Never before had he understood how people drove themselves insane with only their own thoughts, but it had only been a minute since Jesper left, and Kaz already wanted nothing more than to peel off his own skin, if only so he wouldn't be bombarded with memories at even the slightest of touches. He theorized that he'd likely be able to heal that, with the proper training and his newfound abilities, so it wouldn't do him much good in the long run. There was truly nothing to be done about his circumstance, and the thought made him wonder if his panic attacks -- he had read somewhere that's what they were called -- could be triggered if he was simply unable to feel anything. Enough nerve damage would have the desired effect, and-- He cut his thoughts off there, certain that entertaining these scenarios would do him more harm than good.

It was almost laughable, how much he'd enjoyed kissing Jesper, even if it had been only for a moment. Soon after that crossed his mind, Kaz regretted redirecting his thoughts from the aforementioned violence. Violence was easy. Whatever this was, it was complicated.

If Inej were there, she might have told him to apologize to Jesper; it wasn't the sharpshooter's fault that Kaz had reacted so strongly, after all. However, in her absence, Kaz was free to lie in bed and shove his feelings away. It wouldn't do any good for him to be distracted, and Jesper would be better off with Wylan, living in a mansion and helping the merchling with paperwork. Jesper's infatuation with Kaz would fade, and they would both continue as if it had never taken root. Then, perhaps, when all that he defied finally caught up to him, Kaz might have remembered it, in passing, and been able to savor the taste, if only for a moment.

He smiled softly at the thought. In another life, he might not have pushed the sharpshooter away; he might have returned the kiss, and the two of them might have been more than a Barrel boss and his sharpshooter -- no, not his sharpshooter, he admonished himself; not anymore. But, this was not that life, and Kaz knew better than to waste time on hope. Reality was far more reliable.

**Jesper**

If Kaz were with him, he would have told Jesper that his plan was ridiculous. Since that was not the case, Jesper continued on his search for Wylan, and before long, he found the merchling in his office.

He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, unsure of what to say. He had already botched his conversation with Kaz, and now, in a flurry of uncertainty, he simply blurted, "I'm in love with Kaz."

Wylan didn't react immediately, and for a moment, Jesper hoped that -- much like Kaz -- he wouldn't be too affected by the statement. Then, Wylan started visibly shaking, and Jesper actively reminded himself not to offer physical comfort. After what happened previously, he doubted a hug would offer Wylan any consolation.

"I suppose I ought to have known," Wylan said, his voice quavering.

"What do you mean?" Jesper asked, confused.

"What do you like about me?"

"You're smart," Jesper replied, smiling slightly. "You adapted so quickly to being one of the dregs, and you're adorable when you don't know how to react to affection. You're determined, and you're one of the bravest people I've met, Wy."

Wylan nodded. "Don't you think the same thing about Kaz?"

Yes. Jesper's mind supplied an answer before he could even process the question. It was no secret that he admired Kaz's creepy genius, adaptability, determination, and complete disregard for fear. Once, he had even regaled Wylan with a story of the how Kaz awkwardly threatened Jesper after the sharpshooter tried to hug him. With a pang of sadness, Jesper realized that Wylan, put simply, was a more innocent, trusting, open, and lesser version of Kaz. In any other circumstance, Jesper would have laughed, but instead he only felt regret. 

"It's alright, Jesper," Wylan murmured. "You didn't know either."

"Stop," Jesper snapped. "I've been in love with Kaz the whole time we were together; how can you be alright with this? You're supposed to yell, or threaten me, or throw something, not be understanding! You're not meant to make me feel like even more of a monster than I already am."

"I know," Wylan replied. "But getting upset just makes it harder to accept what happened, and I -- I can't hold onto this, Jesper."

"I'm sorry," Jesper said, then he turned and made for Kaz's room. The two of them needed to have a real conversation, not a shouting match, and Jesper knew better than to leave Kaz alone with his emotions for long; it would only make things worse.

The sharpshooter found Kaz sitting in bed, his eyes shut and both hands on his left leg. Quietly, Jesper came to the edge of the bed.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

Kaz started, losing his perch on the edge of the mattress and crashing to the ground. After getting over his initial shock, Jesper hurried to help him back up, certain the thief wouldn't be able to support his own weight given the state of his legs. The sharpshooter found Kaz bracing himself against the nightstand, attempting to drag himself back onto the bed and supporting most of his weight with his arms. Jesper reached an arm out tentatively, taking hold of Kaz's upper arm in an effort to help him, only to be shoved away harshly.

"I just want to help, Kaz," Jesper tried to reason with the thief, who was pressed against the nightstand.

"Don't," came Kaz's reply, lacking its usual bite. "Just don't touch me, Jes."

Kaz's breathing was ragged, and his pupils were blown. Vaguely, Jesper remembered Wylan in similar situations. "You're having a panic attack," he said, more to himself than anything. Kaz remained silent; Jesper's worry grew. The thief always had a clever retort, or he was plotting a murder in that twisted mind of his. This Kaz, curled into himself on the floor, didn't seem the type to plan a murder, and the sharpshooter resisted the urge to offer physical comfort, remembering his previous attempt.

"Talk," came Kaz's voice, the single word a muttered plea rather than a command. Jesper would have asked for clarification, but the single word seemed to tire Kaz so extensively that he thought better of it.

"I'm sorry," the sharpshooter said. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

"So you regret it," Kaz drawled, his words a statement rather than a question.

"No," Jesper corrected him, chuckling softly. "I suppose that makes me rather selfish. I just broke up with Wylan. At least, I think that's what I did. He told me something, that I'd never really loved him in all the time we were together, and he was fine with it. He wasn't even angry; Saints, I wish he had been furious." Kaz stayed silent, merely listening, so Jesper continued, "If he were mad then I could've been justified in leaving him, at least in some manner, but he never did anything wrong. He never did anything to make me unhappy and I still couldn't love him."

"He didn't make you happy either," Kaz breathed, obviously not having meant to say the words aloud. "Besides, you don't get to choose who you love; the only thing you can choose is what you do with it,"

Jesper looked at Kaz, still slumped against the nightstand. He looked better than before; his pupils had returned to their normal size, and his chest was no longer heaving with labored breaths.

Against his better judgement, he said what he'd intended to the last time he'd faced Kaz: "I love you."

Jesper thought he was prepared for the worst, for Kaz to throttle him or break his legs with his cane, but what he didn't anticipate was his blatant reply. "No," the thief said, his tone flat. There was no disbelief, no anger; it was a statement. "You don't love me, Jes," Kaz continued, seeing the sharpshooter's confusion. "It's a passing infatuation, nothing more."

"How do you know?" the other boy snapped, indignant. Kaz was the most observant person Jesper had ever met, but to think he knew the sharpshooter's feeling better than he did himself was the most arrogant idea the gang leader had entertained.

"Because I'm a monstrous shell of a person," Kaz sneered. "What did you think would happen here, Jes? I assume you thought if you just told me how you felt I would dredge up my own emotions and you could shove your tongue down my throat."

"I--"

"Lie to my face and see what happens next," Kaz cut him off sharply.

Jesper, for all his faults, never had any intentions of starting a fling with Kaz; he truly adored the thief for reasons beyond his own comprehension. He loved the way his dark lashes framed his eyes, which were currently dark like a shark's; he loved the thief's wit and sharp tongue; admittedly, he also found Kaz stunning, with his angular features and toned figure, but he knew what he felt was more than what he'd ever felt for Wylan. This was deeper, going further than a single relationship and having roots in every moment the two had shared over the years. Kaz would always be many things to Jesper; he would always mean more to the sharpshooter than a single role in his life. Kaz was his friend, his boss, his partner, even his high at times. It was Kaz who made his blood hum with excitement, who made him feel alive.

"I love you," Jesper asserted, trying to sound genuine. "I haven't told you a single lie today, and I will not begin now, not when you're lashing out at me like a wounded animal."

Kaz's eyes widened for a moment before his cold mask resumed its guard over his emotions. Slowly, the thief drew his leg closer to his chest, bracing it against the ground. Before Jesper could register what was happening, he was standing, having used a burst of adrenaline to right himself. He was leaning heavily on the nightstand, but Kaz's feet were planted firmly against the ground, whether due to determination or a sheer inability to move his legs, Jesper wasn't sure. As he slumped down further, struggling to support his weight, the sharpshooter concluded that it was the former, but there was nothing he could do as Kaz's legs, mangled beyond use, finally gave out, and the thief was left clutching the table.

"Let me help you, Kaz," he begged.

He received no answer, so he acted without one, getting to his feet and wrapping an arm around Kaz to take on his weight. The effect was immediate; the thief all but melted into his arms, letting out the softest whine the sharpshooter had ever heard, free of a rasp. Jesper moved Kaz to the bed, noting that the pale boy was barely conscious.

"You're allowed to rest," the sharpshooter said, though the words were like a knife to his gut.

He knew the Barrel was harsh, but Saints, when was the last time Kaz had relaxed? He doubted even the boy himself -- because he was, after all, still a boy -- could remember. At his words, it was as if the tension bled from Kaz, who let out a small hum of pleasure. As the gang leader drifted to sleep, Jesper couldn't help but lie on the bed next to him, making sure to leave a foot between them and wondering if whatever was done to Kaz that made him this way, that drove him to push his body until it gave out, could be reversed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to give Kaz an easy time this chapter, but then I opted for realism because let's be honest, Kaz would probably deny himself anything remotely close to happiness or contentment. Next chapter will be happier, or at the very least, less arguing. Sorry this one was a bit of a mess, I wrote it on my tablet half asleep, but I couldn't get the idea for its progression out of my head, regardless of the time.
> 
> Thanks so much for being patient with updates, and I will see you all in the next one!
> 
> ~Aylin


	8. VIII - At Least We Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Kaz's PTSD

**Kaz**

Kaz awoke to darkness. He panicked, believing for a moment that he was back in the warehouse, that everything that had come after had been a mere dream, but he was comforted by the reality of Jesper lying on the bed next to him, about a foot between them. Dimly, Kaz remembered fighting with Jesper, trying to heal his leg, and the panic attack that had left him a mess on the floor. He knew he should feel pathetic for it, for the weakness he let Jesper see, but instead, he only felt relieved for what felt like the first time since he arrived in Ketterdam eight years ago.

There was a part of him that wanted to take Jesper's words at face value, that wanted to believe the sharpshooter was in love with him, but there was another part, larger than he'd like to admit, that was afraid. Kaz was no fool; he knew once he indulged his feelings for Jesper, there would be no turning back. People didn't live long in the Barrel, and his former sharpshooter was exceedingly reckless. Kaz was already dreading the day Jesper met the wrong end of a knife; if he allowed himself to grow further attached-- he didn't dare imagine. It would be infinitely worse.

Yet, he still wondered what it might be like to give in, surrender to his impulses, just once. He reckoned it would be like trying a spin of Maker's Wheel; one taste and you were gone, if fate would have it. As much as he dreaded taking that gamble, he also craved it, itched to beat the odds once again.

On the other side of the bed, Jesper stirred, grey eyes fluttering open, and looking back, Kaz thought that was when he made his choice.

"Bottom drawer of the desk; bring the bottle of whiskey and a glass," he drawled, surprising himself momentarily with the lilting, almost musical, tones of his own voice; he had forgotten his rasp was healed.

Jesper complied without protest, watching the thief prop himself up, pour a generous glass of liquor, and down it. After another glass, he had drunk a third of the bottle. Kaz could practically feel the Zemini boy's curiosity radiating off of him, and he couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed the alcohol was having its desired effect.

"I'm sorry, Jes," he said, keeping himself from slurring his words. The sharpshooter looked astonished, probably at the fact he was even receiving an apology. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, and for dismissing your feelings; I was wrong," Kaz elaborated, once again careful to enunciate.

"I don't need a liquor-fueled apology," Jesper replied, words laced with annoyance.

"Jes, I am sorry, and this isn't some drunken mistake that I'll forget in the morning," the thief pressed, looking the sharpshooter in the eye this time. "I'm sorry I reacted so poorly when you tried to help."

"Kaz," Jesper chided. "You don't have to apologize for having a panic attack; you realize that's not your fault, right?"

"Want to hear about it?" Kaz asked, ignoring the question.

He saw a look of understanding cross the sharpshooter's features. "That's why you drank all of that whisky?" he asked, receiving a nod from Kaz.

Closing his eyes and leaning back against the headboard, as if reciting from a dream, Kaz began, "My name used to be Kaz Rietveld. Seventeen years ago, I was born on a small farm in Lij, and I had an older brother, Jordie. I suppose everything started falling apart when I was very young; my mother died, and my family's farm started falling into debt. We managed to stay afloat for a few years, but when I was nine, my father died in a tractor accident.

"Left with no other relatives and our family's debts, Jordie and I had no choice but to sell the farm and move to Ketterdam. Pekka Rollins, using the name Jacob Hertzoon at the time, found us on the streets not long after we ran out of money. He offered Jordie a business opportunity, a small venture that made us a decent amount of money. He should have walked away right after, but my brother was greedy, though he was also a fool. Rollins scammed us out of all of our money, and we ended up on the streets again, at the height of the Queen's Lady Plague.

"We both caught the plague, but it was only Jordie who died from it. When the bodymen found us in some back alley, I was going through the worst of it; they assumed I was dead, too, so they took us both to Reaper's Barge. I was too sick to do anything, to protest, and I don't even remember the boat ride. I woke up surrounded by corpses, and I knew I'd starve before the bodymen came back with a boat. It wasn't hard to figure out I'd have to swim back to shore, but I wasn't strong enough to make it through the harbor on my own."

Kaz was slurring heavily at this point, so he paused briefly, taking a shuddering breath. Then, "Jesper, do you know what floats on Reaper's Barge?"

"Please tell me you don't mean," the sharpshooter trailed off, unable to even voice the thought, but Kaz knew what he was asking. He nodded.

"That's why-- Earlier tonight, when I had a panic attack--" Kaz cut himself off, inhaling sharply. "I can't bear skin on skin contact with another person. Every time I touch someone, no matter how small or how brief, I can feel the rotting flesh of my brother's corpse; I can feel the cold harbor water against my skin, in my lungs, and it's like I'm drowning over and over again," he finally confessed, opening his eyes to finally look at Jesper.

"I still love you," the sharpshooter said. "If this was meant to scare me away, it didn't work," he smiled softly.

Kaz shook his head. "That's not why I told you," he corrected.

"Then why?"

"I needed you to know the reason I shoved you away when you kissed me," the thief replied.

"So you do like me, then?" Jesper joked.

"More than you will ever know," Kaz smiled, sad but genuine, his reply barely above a whisper.

"I think you should let me be the judge of that," the sharpshooter countered, determination brimming in his gaze. Kaz was stunned, not having thought far enough ahead to expect anything of his plan but knowing that this was far better than anything he could have anticipated.

Nevertheless, he knew he had one more truth for Jesper, one he feared would bring all he wanted just out of his reach, but he voiced the words regardless, believing his friend deserved the truth. "I paid off your indenture," the thief informed him, bracing himself to rejection. Why would the sharpshooter stay with him if he didn't have to?

"I know, Kaz," came the reply.

"Then why?" he asked, though it came out as more of a plea for an answer, desperate to know why the sharpshooter was doing this, why he wasn't on his way home. "If you know already, then why stay? Why save me? You're free," the implication 'of me' hung in the air between them, and Jesper hated those stones upon Kaz's back.

"I chose to stay because I love you, Kaz. You make me feel alive, and the thought of leaving-- I will never be free of you, nor do I wish to be," he explained, and Kaz realized he was crying, though he couldn't bring himself to care. He would probably never walk again, and his career as a Barrel boss was likely over, but he was happier than he'd been in years. "You should get some sleep, Kaz. You've had a long few days, and we'll have time enough in the morning," Jesper advised softly, and Kaz found himself blushing slightly at the sudden concern.

If the sharpshooter noticed, he did the other boy the courtesy of saying nothing, lying down next to him instead. Kaz closed his eyes, letting the darkness soothe him. The day before, he would have never dared to imagine how the evening had progressed, and for now, he was too scared to entertain the notion that it had been a dream or a drunken hallucination. If it were, he wouldn't deprive himself of its last few moments, with the sharpshooter by his side as always, his partner in nearly everything.

He pretended to be asleep as Jesper hummed a farmer's tune, reminding Kaz of his own family for the first time in a long while. His parents would have certainly been disappointed if they saw all he'd done, all the blood he spilled in his campaign for money and power, though he suspected Jordie would have been proud, not necessarily because he approved, but because he loved Kaz regardless of anything else.

In that regard, the thief supposed Jesper and Jordie found another similarity. Kaz had been certain Jesper would reject him, would spurn him in favor of restarting his life, attending university, or whatever it was Jesper dreamed of doing. He knew he was no one's dream; he was a monster, through and through, his only redeemable actions being the opportunities he gave those around him to leave him. He couldn't stop himself from being grateful Jesper had chosen him, and he knew he was a monster for it.

He had condemned the person he loved to a life of misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while! Sorry this one is a bit short, but I'll be getting the next update out as soon as I can. Thank you guys so much for reading and being so patient with me. Your feedback and support means the world to me!
> 
> Your author,  
> ~Aylin


	9. IX - Not a Single Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you may all come to my house with pitchforks. It's been a while since I last updated, but I will hopefully be setting aside time to work on updates for this story for the foreseeable future!
> 
> TW: mentions of panic attacks

**Kaz**

When Kaz opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the gentle sunlight that streamed through his window, bathing the room in gold. He was comfortable, far too comfortable to be at his room in the Slat, and he remembered with a start that he was still at the Van Eck mansion. Tentatively, he sat up, glancing behind him to see Jesper fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

The sharpshooter looked calm, lacking the frenetic energy that occupied him in his waking hours. The thief wanted nothing more than to close the space between them and let Jesper's breathing lull him back to sleep, but he knew he couldn't, and before he had the chance to lend the notion another thought, the moment shattered. Poised to get out of bed, Kaz nearly fell onto the ground again before he stopped himself from trying to support his weight on his legs again. Having presumed that Jesper would continue to sleep for a while considering all that Kaz had revealed that night, the thief was surprised when his companion started to stir, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

"Morning, Kaz," the sharpshooter greeted him, sitting up slowly. "I thought you'd be trying to get out of bed again."

"I considered nicking the knives in your coat to get some leverage to drag myself across the floor, but I wasn't certain I'd be able to pull myself onto that end table to open the door," Kaz gestured off-handedly to the table in question, the corner of his lips forming into a smile when he took in Jesper's look of horror. "Now that you're awake, help me up," the thief ordered, inching over to the edge of the bed.

The Zemeni boy moved to comply, getting out of bed and standing across from the thief, who held out a gloved hand. "Are you sure you're alright with this?" Jesper asked, shifting on his feet awkwardly. He was obviously nervous.

Kaz's eyes widened a fraction; the sharpshooter was being oddly accommodating, which was rather unexpected. "It's fine as long as there's no skin on skin contact; I can't feel you through the gloves," he assured him.

The sharpshooter looked relieved, and without warning, the thief found himself in Jesper's arms. The taller boy had thought it a good idea to pick him up, and he stumbled slightly supporting all of Kaz's weight.

"What is Ghezen's name are you doing, Jes?" the thief snapped, glaring at the boy in question, who looked rather unapologetic. "I said to help me up, not carry me."

"Your right leg has been practically unusable for as long as I've known you, and the bones in your left were shattered with a mallet less than a week ago. You're in no condition to walk," the sharpshooter argued, smirking. "Besides, you're out of bed, and I helped you. I followed your instructions precisely, not that it matters considering you're not my boss anymore."

"Just take me downstairs, and get me some coffee," the shorter boy huffed. "Don't make me regret paying off your indenture. I ought to have you contracted to me directly instead of the Dregs, all things considered." Too late, Kaz realized what he'd said, and Jesper's smile faded. "Jes, I wouldn't actually; Ghezen, that was idiotic," the thief stammered in a rush, mentally berating himself. "I didn't mean it," he finished lamely, to which the sharpshooter only flashed him another smile.

"It's alright, Kaz. I shouldn't have assumed that you'd want to take it back; you're not a monster," Jesper replied. "Plus, you got all flustered because you thought you hurt my feelings," he continued gleefully. "It was adorable."

The thief started blushing and opted to ignore the compliment. "Honestly Jes, you know I wouldn't take it back, right?"

"Not even if I told you earlier that I want to stay?" the sharpshooter pressed. "You don't regret it?"

"I don't regret a single thing," Kaz answered. "Not paying off your indenture, nor what happened last night." At the mention of the night's confessions, he noticed Jesper relax slightly, letting out a soft sigh of relief. He must have assumed the gang leader would have no memory of it, considering how drunk he was, but he knew better than to impair his memory, having taken care to drink enough to lower his inhibitions and dull his senses, enough to allow him to recount the truth of his past, nothing more.

The sharpshooter began to shuffle towards the door, obviously struggling to bear all of Kaz's weight, but he didn't complain, looking quite pleased given the circumstances. "This is still okay, right?" Jesper asked, feeling Kaz shift slightly in his arms. The thief had an arm around his neck to avoid being dropped unceremoniously onto the ground--which Jesper appeared grateful for because, although the pale boy wasn't heavy, he wasn't particularly strong--and the sharpshooter had an arm supporting his legs.

Kaz had been curling slightly into Jesper's chest, his warmth a comforting reminder that he was alive, not one of the lifeless corpses from the harbor. "Yeah, proximity doesn't really cause issues for me anymore, as long as it's--" he stopped suddenly, wincing internally at what he'd been about to say. _As long as it's someone I trust._

Inej had been pushing him to try to work through his fear of touch since she discovered it, after the Ice Court heist. They had started with simple things--taking off his gloves when it was just the two of them; experimenting with limited physical contact. Even after she left to hunt slavers, she had ensured he was still making progress through their letters, and Kaz had to admit he was grateful for it. Grateful for the ability to function like a fraction of a normal person, but grateful nonetheless.

Luckily, the sharpshooter hadn't seemed to pay much attention to Kaz's slip, honing in on another detail. "What do you mean by anymore?" he asked. "Being close to people used to be a trigger?"

"Up until a few months ago," Kaz confirmed, and Jesper's face fell, undoubtedly thinking back to all the instances over the years when he'd been too tactile, when he'd made a show of hugging the thief and invading his personal space simply because he knew it bothered him. "Jes, you didn't know before," the shorter boy tried to console him.

"That doesn't make it alright," the sharpshooter sighed. "Even if it wasn't a trigger, I should have respected your boundaries. Saints, how many of your panic attacks were my fault? I caused one yesterday afternoon, and I must've triggered dozens over the years."

"Yes, but it doesn't matter, Jes," Kaz insisted. "I forgive you; there's no way you could have known." He was the broken one, the one at fault, not Jesper. The sharpshooter shouldn't have to worry about his trauma.

The Zemeni boy was quiet until they reached the sitting room, where the other Dregs and company were gathered for breakfast, the coffee table laden with pastries. Inej, her first mate, Wylan, Anika, Roeder, and Pim were all situated on various couches, chatting as they ate, and Jesper and Kaz drew more than a few stares as they entered the room.

"Jesper, put me down before you drop me," the thief drawled, not bothering to acknowledge their attention. The sharpshooter looked hurt for a moment at the lack of warmth in his tone--the words were voiced as an order, not a request--before he realized that this was Dirtyhands, not the Kaz he had spoken with the minute prior. This was the Bastard of the Barrel, giving orders as easily as he breathed and making himself the strongest person in the room, in spite of his disability. Jesper followed the order, setting him down on a couch next to Inej.

"What business, Anika?" Kaz turned to address her from her place across the coffee table. The blond lieutenant looked startled at being acknowledged, floundering for a few moments. "Am I to glean that, in two days, three members of my gang accomplished absolutely nothing, not even discovering the identity of the people who tried to kill me?" he snapped, and the Dregs in question flinched.

"Go easy on them, Kaz," Jesper tried to cut in. "We did save you, after all."

"I dislocated my thumbs to get free of the chains, healed myself enough to travel, and dragged myself across the floor of a warehouse, after which I nearly killed you, Jes," the thief bit back. "The lot of you carried me back here, during which you got shot, and I had to prevent you from bleeding out on the floor of Wylan's mansion. By all means, consider yourselves successful." None of them had a response for that, not that this bothered Kaz. "Pekka Rollins is back; he tried to kill me in collusion with the Fjerdans, who probably now know that the Dregs were responsible for the Ice Court heist. They either want revenge for us breaking into their prison, or they wanted to kill me because I'm Grisha; the former is more likely, considering they lured you all there to ambush you on the return trip. You were slower and less cautious on the way back because you were carrying me," he informed them, picking fruits off of a tart and popping them into his mouth when he finished, giving his company time to process.

"What's the plan?" Roeder spoke up.

"You're going to scout out the Kaelish Prince, reporting back to me tonight, Pim is going to bring me a medik who can keep quiet, and Anika will gather anything Wylan needs to make a toxic aerosol," the thief explained, knowing full well that wasn't what Roeder asked. Nevertheless, the four he addressed nodded resolutely, understanding the urgency of the situation and leaving to fulfill their roles.

Kaz was left with Jesper, Inej, and her new boyfriend, who she had told him about in her letters--Luuk. He was of Ravkan descent, and at first glance, the thief thought he looked like the kind of tourist who'd get pickpocketed in Ketterdam day after day. Upon closer inspection, he noticed how the Wraith's first mate was studying their surroundings, eyes flickering between Kaz himself and the windows; he was no fool, nor did he underestimate the cripple. Inej had taught him well.

"You didn't give me a role, Kaz," Inej mused aloud, eyes filled with mirth. "One would think you've grown less controlling in the past few months."

"My darling Inej, I should think you already know yours," he quipped with a smirk, no heat behind his words. "I would offer to accompany you, but there's something else I have to attend to. Besides, I should think Luuk is fit to assist you." He turned to her first mate, gaze hardening. "You should know that I don't make threats, merely promises. If any harm comes to her, I will personally gut you and feed your innards to the fish in Fifth Harbor."

Luuk smiled, a deadly grin that Kaz couldn't help but match. "I think I'm going to like you."

"See, Wraith?" the gang leader crooned. "You don't have to worry about us."

Inej gave him a look filled with relief and worry, a delightfully dangerous combination for his Wraith. "I always worry, Kaz. I doubt this city could endure the two of you united."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's definitely been a while since I've written one of these for this story, and all I can say is, I've gotten quite distracted with other projects lately. However, the SoC fandom has a special place in my heart, so I will be finishing this if it kills me. I started this story nearly a year ago now, so I am insanely grateful to anyone who's stuck with me since the beginning!
> 
> The first half of this story hurt my soul a bit, so I decided to take in easy on us all for a little while. I love Kaz's dynamic with all of the characters, to be honest, but if you don't like the slower chapters, don't worry--more plot is coming soon.
> 
> As always, I love reading comments, so make sure to leave any feedback if you enjoyed!
> 
> Until next time,  
> ~Aylin


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